all hauntings are the same
by Anise
Summary: A ghost is a wish, a dream, and an addiction. And as Ginny Weasley is about to learn, Draco is an addiction that she just can't shake. A bit of a crossover with Haunting of Hill House.
1. Chapter 1

The large white owl pinwheeled down from the winter sky as Ginny hurried along the snowy back alley behind King's Road. She paused to glance up at the magnificent bird, even though she knew that she needed to continue to her destination as quickly as possible. This slipstream Apparition point was very tricky. If she didn't step through it at exactly the right time, she could miss the only opportunity to travel just the right amount so that she could pause halfway between the worlds and stay there for half an hour or so.

But there was something familiar about that owl, and it nagged at her like the hand of a child plucking at her sleeve, trying to coax her back to a place it wanted to go again.

Or maybe the uncomfortable feeling was just the knowledge that what she was about to do was not such a great idea, and she did know that. But the desire to do it again and again had the irresistible pull of an addiction. She knew it was probably bad for her and maybe even for everybody else involved, but she couldn't stop.

Or maybe it was just that she didn't want to.

She shook off the circular tangle of thoughts and pushed open the red door that held the small alcove where she was headed.

"You're here again," said Ron.

Ginny pressed close to the misty barrier that separated her and her brother, nodding.

He made a gesture that was very like shoving his hands into his pockets. "Aren't you going to get in trouble, Gin? Isn't somebody going to figure this out at that ghost hunter place where you work?"

She squirmed uncomfortably. "It's fine, Ron. And it's the Bureau of Spirit Resolutions. How are you?"

He shrugged. "Not too bad. It's a bit dull around here, that's the main problem."

"Aren't there any other ghosts to talk to?"

"Oh, yeah. Loads of them hang out here, new ones coming in and out all the time. But the problem is that nobody ever seems to stick around long. it's like a waystation. A lot like the place Harry told me about once, actually. You know, where he went with Dumbledore during the last battle—" He broke off.

Ginny remembered Harry's stories all too well. She also remembered what had happened during the last battle, and how many had died. How many she'd lost. Ron, George, Charlie and Bill. Her father. Her mother, in a way. Molly Weasley had never been the same afterwards. She wondered how Ron felt about the reminder, but he'd never really spoken about it yet, and she didn't feel that she had the right to say a word on the subject until he did.

"Do you ever see, uh… anyone we know?" she asked, as tactfully as she could.

"If you mean any of— _us_ —no," said Ron. He sounded more thoughtful than pained. "I've seen Dennis Creevey, though. Can you tell Colin about that? He seemed a bit lost."

"I wish I could bring Colin here," sighed Ginny. "I'm the only one who can get this close, though."

"Dennis moved on pretty quickly anyway," said Ron. "I wish I could have given him a bit more direction, but it's not as if I know where any of this ends up." He swept a hand around the huge space, filled with fog and dimly illuminated by a sourceless light.

"But you're okay?" she asked.

He smiled, and it was her brother's old lopsided smile, the one she'd known as long as she could remember anything at all. "Now that you're here, I am. How's the job going, anyway?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Those awful Victorian Edgington-Smythes never did end up paying anything, not after the great-uncle's ghost said that the nephew murdered him. And that Crain family in America with the horrible Hill House in 2018, don't even get me started on them!"

"It must be strange, to be able to go into the future _and_ the past," said Ron. "Do you ever wonder what's happening with your future self, Gin?"

She thought about that. "Sometimes. But the thing is that these are all alternate realities anyway—we bring them into line with ours by fixing or changing what the ghosts are doing. So I wouldn't know what's going to happen to the real me anyway." She didn't add that she was always afraid her future self would have married Harry, had several of his children, given up all her own dreams, and been completely miserable.

They talked for another half hour, speaking hurriedly by the end, both knowing that their time together was drawing to a close. Finally, the torch stuck high in the wall above Ginny's head began to flicker in a regular pattern, and she knew that time was almost up.

"I have to go, Ron," she said. "But I'll come back as soon as I can. Wait for me!"

He nodded, and his smile turned bittersweet.

Ginny walked home slowly through the side streets near the art center, avoiding any main thoroughfares. Laverstock was quiet and still by this hour of the night as long as she stuck to the side streets; she rarely ran into anyone this late, and she was alone with her thoughts. How likely was it, really, that she'd get caught in one of her surreptitious visits to Ron? She had the right to be at that Apparition point, after all. She'd never even run into another agent using it. But sooner or later, it was bound to happen…

A draft of cold air touched her face, followed by the brush of a feathered wing. Ginny looked up to see the same eagle owl flying around her head.

She looked up at the owl again, trying to place that nagging sense of familiarity. It was a beautiful bird, large and strong, tufts of white feathers above its grey eyes. It bobbed a quizzical look at Ginny, and in that moment, she realized what she should have figured out before. The owl carried a tiny scrolled parchment in its claw, which it held out to her. And it hovered above her in the chill December air. The owl was actually there for her.

She really should take the parchment. It probably had some last-minute information from the head of her department in the bureau, details about possible jobs, perhaps. Or maybe a frantic dashed scribble from Colin about the rent that was due that day, although that theory didn't make much sense. She already knew how precarious their financial situation was.

But somehow, she couldn't quite do it. She stared up at the owl. And she saw that its claws were transparent. So was its feathered body. Only the parchment was completely solid.

She was looking at the ghost of an owl. A chill swept through her that had nothing to do with the cold wind.

Before she could think twice, Ginny had turned and started to hurry away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the owl circle and then pause, but it didn't follow her.

She mentally scolded herself all the way back. It didn't make sense for her to run, like a stupid child afraid of ghosts. So what if this was a ghost owl? She'd heard of those, although she'd never seen one. They only carried messages from the spirit world, if she remembered correctly.

For all she knew, one of the ghosts she'd been dealing with recently was sending her a note. Nell Crain pleading with her to take the Hill House case again, maybe. _I really hope not!_ As much as Ginny needed the money, she'd turned down the job because the family situation was hopelessly mucked up. Even without going to the house, she knew that the haunting likely consisted of a concentration of Obscurus, all desperately seeking human hosts. While the house was cursed in a way, she supposed, the Crain family itself was the real curse, because all of its members were so willing to fall under the spell of these energy vampires. The same thing was undoubtedly true of all the other ghosts that had ended up in the same house since it had been built.

She could have explained this point to the Crains. They were all people with a certain level of magical powers, not quite enough to keep them from flying under the radar in America, none of them ever receiving their Livermorny letters. It wasn't as if they were non-majs—ugh, as much as she hated that American term—and she wasn't required to keep any knowledge of the magical world from them. But Steven, the older brother, had ranted about how they all had untreated adult-onset schizophrenia and there wasn't any magic involved. Shirley, the oldest sister, had flatly refused to believe in any of it. Luke, the youngest brother, was in rehab. Theo, the middle sister who'd originally contacted the agency, had just kept on steadily drinking straight whiskey throughout the entire interview

In the end, she'd been forced to use a soft Oblivation spell on them all. None of them would even remember speaking to her. There wasn't much she could do to help people like that, the ones who were really only haunting themselves.

So it was probably nothing. She really should have read the parchment. She should turn back now and try to find the owl. That shouldn't be too difficult, because it was clearly looking for her.

But Ginny only hurried down the back streets towards her flat on a quiet back street.

As she turned onto Wincham Terrace, she thought she saw someone from the corner of her eye walking in the other direction. She had a vague impression of a tall, pale figure in a long dark cloak, a fair head of hair shining brilliantly in a streetlight overhead. She turned abruptly to see, but the street was empty.

"I really need a drink," she said aloud, and walked fast, pulling the collar of her coat up against the December wind.

Colin was waiting in their flat with a hot cup of tea, laced with brandy. Ginny took it gratefully, holding her hands to savor the warmth, sipping the sweet liquid slowly. The time travel apparitions always seemed to take a lot out of her, even before she'd spoken to Ron.

"So how did it go at this Hill House?" asked Colin. "Was it as haunted as they say?"

"Well, we never actually went to the house—I just saw some pictures. But I have a feeling the answer is yes."

"Are you going to do a cleansing or investigation of whatever? Do I need to stock up on those sage smudging sticks again?"

"No. Because I'm not going to take that one on," sighed Ginny. "That family has to deal with it themselves, and it's going to be very unpleasant. I have a feeling that it's one of those houses that is itself psychically sensitive. It latches on to certain people, and then others living in the same house might never even know anything was wrong at all. Maybe some kind of place-based Obscurus _,_ that's my best guess.""

"Oh." Colin looked dejected.

"I'm starving." Ginny walked into the little kitchen and opened the fridge, peering inside. "Colin! There's nothing but celery sticks and a half eaten can of tuna in here."

"Well, yes, I meant to talk to you about that…" Colin followed her, wringing his hands in the way he always did when he didn't want to tell her something. "We're not exactly doing stunningly well financially right now."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means there's nothing in the cupboard, either. "

"Oh, no," groaned Ginny.

"Do you have any big paychecks coming?" Colin asked, his voice hopeful.

"No," she sighed, flopping down into a chair at the kitchen table.

"What about that other job?"

She rolled her eyes. "The new Lord Edgington-Smythe wasn't exactly happy about having the family secrets revealed, especially the one where he hit his great-uncle in the head with a poker in the billiard room. I think we've got all we're going to get out of that family."

"Can't you get your boss to put the squeeze on him? He's paid less than half."

"No. But that's something right?"

"This just paid for the back rent," said Colin. "Gin, we've got to get some more money, soon."

"I'll figure something out…" Ginny's eyes strayed out the window that overlooked a side street. She found herself searching for the ghostly figure of the owl—or the tall, cloaked, muffled figure that she'd seen before. _Thought_ she'd seen, anyway.

"Maybe I'm finally just going mad," she sighed. She wondered if that might be an occupational hazard of working with ghosts. Or more accurately, the families of the ghosts.

"Any particular reason?" asked Colin. He sat at the table and gave her a concerned look. "Gin, what's wrong?"

"Besides the fact that we might have to end up doing magic tricks on the streets for pennies?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "Besides that."

She closed her eyes briefly. "You want to hear something crazy? I thought I saw Draco Malfoy on the street." It was a relief to finally admit it.

"I wouldn't say it's crazy. It could be him," Colin pointed out. "I mean, Malfoy Manor is less than ten miles away."

She grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"But don't you think it's at least possible that—"

"Colly, I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

She was glad that he refrained from pointing out that she was the one who'd brought up the subject of hallucinatory visions of Draco Malfoy, although she could almost read the words in his head, as hopeless as she'd always been at Legilimency.

He got up. "I suppose I'd better start getting ready for my shift. I'm trying to get more hours at that petrol station, you know. That should help."

"There's something else," she said abruptly. "Ron wanted me to tell you something. He saw Dennis."

Colin stood very still for a moment. "Really? Was he… all right?"

"Yes. I don't know much more than that, though," she admitted.

"Nothing more?" asked Colin. The hunger for knowledge of his lost brother shone through naked on his face. _Gods, did I always look like that when I was trying to find out what happened to my brothers and Dad?_

"Ron said that he seemed just a bit lost," she said cautiously. "But then he found the way out, and he seemed happier."

"So I couldn't go see him, then," Colin said quietly.

"It wouldn't work if you tried anyway," Ginny said, just as quietly. "I'm the only one who can talk to the spirits."

"It's just as well, isn't it? Yes, it is. I know it is…" Colin hesitated. "You should stop going there, Gin. You know I'm right. If nothing else, it's unbelievable that you've been getting away with it so far. Your luck's going to run out if you keep it up."

"I'm so tired," said Ginny, getting up abruptly. "I think I'll go to bed early."

Yes, it was late, and she was tired. Maybe she really did need these few days off for the holidays, as little as she was feeling the Yuletide spirit. Ginny brushed her teeth, put on pajamas, and slipped into bed. But an hour later, she was still staring up at the bedroom ceiling, thinking, reluctantly remembering what Colin had said.

He was right. She'd been lucky to not get caught visiting Ron so far, but her luck was bound to run out. Even if it didn't, though… Colin seemed to think there were other reasons to stop trying to linger between the worlds in the way that she was. That thought was uncomfortable, and her brain shied away from it. Instead, she mulled over the events of the past year.

After the knee injuries that had ended her Quidditch career, she'd been at loose ends at best, in the depths of despair at worst. She'd spent entire days staring out into the rain and writing bad poetry about everything that she had lost. The gods knew that there was enough material for that. Her father. Five of her brothers. Her mother's sanity. Her relationship with Harry. There had seemed no escape from the black pit of depression.

But then this opportunity had come up. The Bureau of Spirit Resolutions was an experimental department, operating outside of the Ministry and maintaining an uneasy relationship with it. The connection, however, was why Percy had learned about the job opening. He had contacted her about it, or to be more accurate, Fred had threatened to break down the door as Percy tried to reason with her and Colin wrung his hands and pleaded through the keyhole. He had been pressed into service as an honorary Weasley brother after the war, and he was constantly hovering around Ginny, anxious and devoted to her well-being.

Ginny had finally let them all in after a neighbor threatened to call the Muggle police on them. The meeting after that hadn't gone well until Fred finally said a number of unkind things about what George would have wanted her to do.

Once Ginny began to pull herself out of the spiral of misery, she had known that she couldn't be picky. Opportunities had dried up as economic hard times hit the wizarding world a few years after the war, like a delayed effect. And while nobody thought the recession would last forever, the chances for inexperienced workers were few and far between. Ginny had zero professional experience with anything outside of playing Quidditch because she'd never really planned beyond that career. If she were to be honest with herself, she'd been going along with everyone's assumption that she and Harry would get married and then he'd support her with his work as an Auror anyway. She hadn't thought ahead for other contingencies. That lack of planning had caught up with her, all right. So even though the job with the Spirit Bureau was commission only, she'd grabbed it eagerly.

And she did a good job. Even though it had meant she had to move to the Salisbury area, where too many streets held memories. She'd walked here with Draco Malfoy over that summer just after the war, almost six years before. At least her flat was in Laverstock, as was the main Temporal Apparition point that she used for work. Malfoy Manor was too close to Salisbury for her comfort, and Laverstock was a village-turned-suburb only a mile and a half away. Still, she was succeeding in her job and had hopes of a promotion quite soon. She liked her supervisor. She was discovering an unexpected ability to commune with ghosts, to learn what they wanted, and often, to convince them to move on.

But then she'd found that _she_ couldn't move on.

Ginny had stumbled across an unmonitored, shadowy connection to the spirit world about a month before. It was located in an annex very near a Temporal Apparition point that she used to cross over into the various times and locations where she investigated particularly troublesome hauntings. She'd found Ron there waiting for her, and she hadn't been able to turn back. It was affecting her work, affecting the life she was trying to rebuild. But she didn't seem able to stop.

"Ugh," she groaned. "I've got to stop thinking about this…"

Finally, she did fall into a restless sleep, filled with disturbing dreams of white owls and shining heads of pale hair against the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Ginny woke up late with a throbbing headache. A note from Colin was propped up against a book on the table. She read it blearily while spooning Wheatabix into her mouth from a bowl.

 _Gin,_

 _Got a lead on a possible job at a new Starbucks near Stonehenge. They could give me loads of hours, so I'm interviewing today. Tell Bryan I'll see him later, if he calls. C_

Ginny smiled ruefully. _At least one of us has a boyfriend!_ Not that she wanted one, of course. After last year's final breakup with Harry, she valued her freedom too highly, and she much preferred independence to the nightmare of being stuck with the wrong partner.

Now she had a free day, and she was at loose ends. _Ugh, it was always like this at school, too. If I have too much free time, I always waste it._ Well, at least she wouldn't do that.

She cleaned. She rearranged the holiday ornaments. She'd let Colin talk her into getting a tree, so she watered it. She wrote out holiday cards and sent them to friends. She worked on sketches of the town square. Ginny was able to keep herself busy for quite some time, but as the early twilight began to fall at about four o'clock, she found herself sitting at the kitchen table, staring out at the long rays of the setting sun.

 _I could go to see Ron again._ Yule was three days away now. Maybe she could bring a present, although she had no idea if it was even possible to deliver anything through the misty barrier that would separate them.

Ginny put on coat, hat, scarf and mittens and went out into the street. She was starting to turn into a side alley when she felt the brush of feathered wings on her cheek.

It was the owl again, of course. It extended a not-quite-solid claw to her, quirking the tufts over its pale grey eyes in a quizzical way. She sighed and took what the owl held, knowing that she really had no other choice.

She unrolled the parchment. There were only three words.

 _Share the secret._

Then the owl suddenly flew away, fading into the sky as it soared upwards.

Ginny shivered. At once, she struggled for immediate, easy answers to what had happened, and especially her own reaction to what she'd read.

The strange owl had obviously meant to deliver the note to someone else and had fixed on her instead, that was all. Probably someone connected to one of her jobs from the past year. Perhaps the owl had even been trying to reach the wrong era and incorrect continent. Messages could become very confused near this type of Apparition point; she'd heard about that happening before. It was nothing. It didn't mean anything important, it couldn't possibly.

Lost in thought, Ginny didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.

"Weasley," snarled a familiar voice. Or once that voice had been all too familiar to her. She hadn't heard that voice in over five years, and at the end, it had held the same angry tone.

She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy.

Just the sight of him was like a soft, prolonged blow. She struggled to block him out, even as her eyes hungrily devoured him. He looked almost the same as he had five years before, just a bit of maturity added. His shoulders were broader, the planes of his face more settled and less sharp. But the grey eyes that glared at her had not changed one bit.

She'd planned what to do if she ever saw him again, even as she'd always told herself that there was no chance she ever would. She had rehearsed the lack of recognition on her face and the sound of the cold greeting she'd give. Ginny had always known that she wouldn't be able to ignore him completely. In one version, she'd said something vague about how nice it was to see old acquaintances; in another, she'd given him a cool look and mispronounced his name in crisp, clear tones. But now, all of her plans flew out of her mind as surely as the ghost owl had soared away from her into the sky.

"I did see you walking down the street last night, didn't I?" she asked stupidly. "It really was you."

Draco tightened his lips. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth, as if the last thing he wanted to admit was that he'd been hanging about the streets where she lived. "Yes, it was. And now that I've found you, I would highly appreciate it if you explained yourself."

Ginny's stared at him. "Explain what? Why I was stupid enough to move here?" Almost before the words had left her mouth, she could have kicked herself. Why, why had she told him that much? "I shouldn't have done," she went on, recklessly. "I ought to have known that sooner or later, I was going to run into you!"

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Weasley. Would you care to explain why you've been harassing me so relentlessly?"

Her mouth dropped open. "What the hell do you think you're talking about, Malfoy?" _Oh! He's as arrogant as ever. As if I'd try to have any contact with him ever again!_

"This." He dug into the pocket of his cloak. Even when making a movement that should have been graceless, he looked as graceful as ever, she could not help seeing. He thrust out his hand at her, palm up. She stared at the collection of small, rolled parchments piled in it. His fingers curled slightly around them, holding them in place. Those long, strong fingers… oh, how well she remembered them, and what he could do with them. _She shook herself. Stop it!_

"They all say the same thing, as you very well know," said Draco in low, measured tones. "I've read them. Are you happy now? Call off your damn owl."

"No, I don't know anything about what those parchments say or don't say," she retorted. "I don't have the least idea how or why you've been getting these, but—"

"Apparently you're really going to force me to spell out facts known to you, but which you won't admit," said Draco. "Very well. That owl of yours from Hogwarts- Pigwidgy?"

"Pigwidgeon," said Ginny, her lips suddenly seeming to go numb.

"Yes, whatever. That annoying ball of feathers has been whirring about my head every time I've stepped outside in the past three days. It's insisted on delivering parchments, and they all say exactly the same thing. You're still going to act as if you don't know what the messages are? Very well. Take one and read it, why don't you?"

A chill ran through Ginny. She reached out and took one of the tiny rolls, trying as hard as she could to avoid actually touching his skin, even though she could feel the heat coming from his palm.

The small parchment only had three words.

 _Share the secret._

She stared up into Draco's furious face, unable to speak. She'd stepped so close to him now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek.

"I've been seeing your owl, too," she managed to say. "The same eagle owl that was always delivering sweets to you at school."

What color his pale face had drained quickly away. "You can't have done," he said. "Monoceros… in the last battle, he…"

Yes. The Malfoy eagle owl was dead, and he'd probably died the same way as her own owl, caught in the crossfire in the last battle.

"Pigwidgeon's dead too," she said.

They'd both been followed by ghost owls determined to give them the same message. Oh, gods, what did that mean?

"Here's what your owl gave to me," she said, and she handed Draco the miniature roll of parchment. Their skin lightly touched, and she saw him shudder, his pale eyes going dark against his very white skin. He read the words, and realization dawned on Ginny as he did.

 _Share the secret._

She knew, now, what it meant. So did he.

They stood very close now, wordless, both breathing hard. Closer. Closer still. Ginny closed her eyes, feeling the heat that rolled off him.

Then the air was suddenly cold. He'd pulled away from her.

"Leave me alone, Weasley," he said tightly.

"That's exactly what I was doing!" She was furious at him, or herself, or both, she didn't know which. "I don't know what happened with those ghost owls, Malfoy, but I had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, neither did I. I hope you don't think I ever would have done."

His words stung, which made no sense at all.

"I'll leave you alone, all right. I never want to see you again," blurted Ginny.

"The feeling's more than mutual, Weasley," he sneered, his handsome features sharpening into angry lines. He looked the way he had at school when he was at his very worst. An arrogant, spoiled teenager, the world at his fingertips, protected by the Malfoy money and power.

Except…

Except that he hadn't been protected at all.

She remembered the terrified Draco Malfoy in his sixth year, thin and drawn and haggard, tortured by what he had forced to do and what more was still demanded of him. And still the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. As he was now, this beautiful young man who she had once known so well and yet not at all.

Ginny did not trust herself to say a single word.

She shot him a filthy look, turned on her heel, and left. Without turning round, she knew that his gaze was boring into her back, following her every step of the way.

But she also knew what had really happened.

Ginny walked into the little annex and looked into the huge, misty space on the other side. Her brother was waiting for her, and she realized that he knew what she wanted to ask him.

"Ron," she said. "You sent the owl to Draco Malfoy. Didn't you? The ghost of Pigwidgeon, with that parchment. It was you."

He nodded, looking unsurprised.

"But why?"

"Because you and Draco Malfoy have unfinished business, and a lot of it."

"I don't understand," fumbled Ginny. "Why would you want to help us ever see each other again? I thought the top of your head was going to blow off when you found out about us five years ago. You've hated Dr- Malfoy more than I've ever seen you hate anyone in your life."

"Worse than poison," said Ron. "But things change in the afterlife, Gin." He looked at her shrewdly. 'You haven't asked who sent the ghost of that Malfoy owl, Monoceros. Do you want to know?"

"I suppose I might as well!"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"And you knew about this?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"He approached me, and we worked on it together."

"Oh, gods," she groaned. "How could you? Didn't you hate him as well?"

"Yes, and I don't like him much better now," said Ron. "But… I don't think I can explain it. It's different here, Gin. It's about tying up loose ends when you can. It's not like life." He hesitated, and then spoken again. Each of his words dropped into her mind like stones spreading ripples in a pool. "That's why this has to stop."

"What?"

"This." He made a gesture that showed the space between them. "I think you know what I mean."

"I'm not giving up my work with the spirit investigation bureau," said Ginny aggressively. "I'm good at it, Ron. I never thought I'd be good at anything ever again after Quidditch." That wasn't what her brother had been talking about, though, and she knew it.

"But you've had problems lately. The Edgington-Smythes, that Crain family in America… I talked to Nell Crain, you know. She wasn't able to stay here in the way-station because she's tied to that house, she had to go back. But she was able to visit _because_ she's chosen to haunt a specific place on earth rather than going on."

"What do you mean?" she asked startled. "I've never heard that."

"Oh, ghosts learn loads of things about other ghosts, and from them. It's a small world, the afterlife where we've all refused to move on." He looked at her shrewdly. "Gin, your problems started at the exact time that you found this portal and started visiting me. Didn't they? About a month ago."

Ginny wanted to deny that, but she couldn't seem to find the words.

He shook his head. "I'm not saying you should give up your work. That would be even worse. You do have a gift for it, Gin, or you couldn't have tempted me back in the first place. I mean that you've got to let go of _me._ And I have to let go of you, as well."

Ginny was silent for several very long moments. "All hauntings are the same, aren't they?" she finally asked. "The living can't let go. Neither can the dead. So both of them keep a door open that should be closed, because they wish so hard that they could go back to the time when they could be together, face to face. No door between them. But they never can."

Ron nodded. "You've got to stop trying to keep me here, Ginny. But… but I've got to stop being so willing to stay. I've been wishing for a past that can never return. And there's a future. There's so much waiting for me, and I've got to get to it. One door closes, and another opens." He grimaced, and the expression looked so much like the old Ron that Ginny's heart turned over. "Being a ghost isn't having a very good effect on me, is it? I'm quoting inspirational Muggle rubbish now." He reached up a spectral hand, and she pressed her palm to the barrier so that they almost, almost touched.

"Goodbye, Gin," he said.

She could not cry. She could not beg. She had to let him go. It was the hardest thing she had ever been forced to do, but she must do it. So she did. She said goodbye, knowing that it was the last time she would ever see her lost brother in this lifetime.

"Don't worry," whispered Ron. "We'll meet again."

She watched him walk away from her, towards a steadily growing light somewhere at the other end of the room. Then he was gone.

Ginny got up and left slowly, walking out of the annex and into the street.

She was not even surprised to see Draco Malfoy waiting for her a few yards away.

"You knew about this point, didn't you?" she asked.

"I knew that it existed," he said. "I can't access it. I don't have the sorts of abilities that you do…" His words trailed off, and Ginny somehow knew that it was because he didn't really know how to address her.

 _Weasley? Ginny?_

Or the words he had gasped and groaned into her ear five years before, when they had lain entwined in his four-poster teak bed in his rooms at Malfoy Manor?

Those sweet secret hours of the summer after the war, when she had given herself to him as she had never yet shared herself with Harry up to then. Once it had all fallen apart with Draco and she'd finally let Harry have her in that same way, he knew that she no longer possessed some elusive quality. It was more than just his missing out on her first experiences with sex. No, there was an innocence and openness of heart that Ginny had offered to Draco Malfoy, and that he had crushed ruthlessly beneath his feet when he left her.

Except that he hadn't.

Except that as she now admitted for the first time, she had crushed him every bit as thoroughly. He had lost as much as she. He had his share of blame, yes, but it was equaled by hers. She had wanted to believe ever since that their parting had been all his doing, but that had never been the case. She had rejected him before he ever had the chance to cast her aside.

And he had called her _sweetheart, dearest, Ginny love._

He remembered it too. She knew that.

And whatever had bloomed between them then had not died. There was something between them now, a fragile thread that could never be broken, fragile but strong as steel. She could no longer deny it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said, and she nodded.

"So am I… Draco."

The silence stretched between them for several seconds. A cold blast of wind whipped down the alley, setting the ornaments on the lampposts swinging. A figure that was undoubtedly meant to be cheerful but instead resembled Santa hung in effigy swiveled so violently that it almost hit Ginny in the head. At the last moment, Draco reached out a hand and pulled her back. The movement was swift and natural, and before Ginny knew it, he had pulled her all the way into the circle of his cloak, and she felt the warmth of his body lightly touching hers at every point.

Did he mean to really touch her? Was he just exercising the good manners that had been bred into him through a thousand years of pureblood intermarrying? What?

"Where were you, Draco?" she asked, for fear of what _he_ might say next.

"I was in America for years, looking after Malfoy business interests," he said, his voice low in her ears. "There was no-one else to do it after—well, you know."

Ginny nodded. Everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy had shot himself through the head in the Manor library several months after she and Draco had parted. Some suspected that Draco's father had made some kind of backroom deal with the Ministry. If he took himself out of the picture, then all criminal charges would be dropped. But he had shown his contempt for the wizarding world that had rejected his family by using violent Muggle means rather than a genteel, silent Killing Curse.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she said, and strangely, she meant it.

His muscles tightened, but he did not move away from her. "The reason I came back is that the Manor is… haunted. Most likely by the ghost of my father. There's nothing I can do to resolve it, so I've contacted the Spirit Resolution bureau."

Ginny smiled. "Then you might as well know something, Malfoy. I'm the investigator for this entire area. You'll get me."

Draco gave her a crooked half smile. "I'll see you soon again then, I suppose."

She nodded. And as naturally as if they had never been separated at all, their arms went round each other.

They parted after that, but Ginny knew that this was only the beginning of what would happen between them. As if she had genuine precognitive powers, she saw it all, or at least the shape of things to come. She would be working closely with Draco Malfoy now. And what happened next… only time would tell.

Slowly, she turned and walked back in the snow, a smile on her face, and the smell and scent of Christmas was everywhere. Bright, joyous. And like the feel of Draco Malfoy's arms around her, it dissolved all the hauntings away.

\- the end -

Author's Note: Because we don't know the name of Draco's eagle owl from Hogwarts, I've decided that it was **Monoceros** , the name of the unicorn constellation.

This is for Rowan Greenleaf in the 2018 Xmas D/G Exchange, based on the prompt "share the secret."

I hadn't originally planned to include any kind of crossover, but after watching all of HoHH on Netflix… the Crains just kind of found their way in here. In this version, Theo has a level of magical ability that flew under the radar just enough so that she never got her letter. But that was why she was able to reach out to the Spirit Resolution Bureau. Nell was the moving force behind the attempt to solve the haunting this way, though. I like to think that she tried a few different options to help her siblings before everybody went back to the house.

And thanks for reading!


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